


Liar Led Astray

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Q is a terrible liar, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is a bad liar, and tries to convince James that he is both not as bad at lying as he seems and that he is not, in fact, interested in him in a desperate attempt at dignity. James sees right through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar Led Astray

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a conglomerate of things; thank you, movie, for basically confirming Q was a terrible liar, and thank you, bff, for letting me take part of the idea from a prompt you got. <3  
> I like their dynamic a lot, honestly, and even though I have plenty of other things I should be doing, a break seems to be a good idea, right? Hope y'all like this.

He was trying to be better at lying, honest.

It worked, sometimes. He could lie through a computer screen, through messages and information, through lines of code. He was one of the best liars then; it was why MI6 had hired him in the first place.

But his body betrayed him; his facial tics, his eyes, his hands, they were not so perfect as code, not nearly good enough to lie like a machine could. He was too human and he hated it. It threatened to trip him up at every turn; he was at a loss lately, in far too deep to lie.

He was in love with 007.

 _That,_ he did not speak about. That kept it from being a lie, thank god, because otherwise it might have needed to leave that odd, twilight realm of truth where it currently resided. That kept it from betraying him in every odd, crooked smile he treated him to, the glimmer in his eyes when James looked at him, the way his hands shook when James placed another broken gun, a phone that needed fixing, or, on some occasions, a cup of tea or a plea to rest, right in his palms, his calloused fingers brushing against the heartlines on his hands.

He needed to defend himself against the truth, because he couldn't very well lie about it.

That was easy, once he took a good long look at Eve. James looked at her like she was special, like how Q wanted to look at him, (oh, if only he was a bit braver, if he wasn't better through a computer screen, a communicator.) James liked pretty, James like sleek and supple and sultry.

Q was none of those things. Q was gawky, Q was rumpled, Q was soft and pale and so far from sultry he didn't even merit a smoky glance.

Still. That wasn't enough, it seemed. James still touched him. James still laughed at his jokes, and brought him tea. So he had to up the stakes, it seemed.

Q stopped ironing his cardigans or his button-downs, letting his hair get rumpled and his glasses go askew.

"You look rather...interesting," James said as he came into Q's office. "Like a little bird that fell out of its nest." He grinned. "Would you like me to put you back in and straighten you out, Quartermaster?"

Q just laughed, a strangled giggle at best, before shooing him out and burying his face into his hands.

It was not enough, so it seemed.

Q went shopping the next day and got himself bigger clothes; things that hung off his slight, bony frame like coats on a rack. He wrapped an enormous trenchcoat around himself and nodded, satisfied, as he prepared an outfit for work in the morning.

An enormous cardigan and loose button-down complemented a trenchcoat he could've drowned in, and he'd even bought a pair of bigger glasses. His pants were another story, though he bought ones that weren't so tight around the legs; the last thing he needed were his pants dropping while 007 was around.

He managed to continue on like that for a week and felt very proud of himself. Bond had apparently gotten the hint, and he'd stopped touching his hands or smiling warmly at him. Of _course_ it hurt, but who cared about that? It prevented him from either having to tell the truth or lie through his teeth—neither option, of course, ending well.

Q settled in, his clothing shifting around him in huge, baggy folds, and began to key in code, ignoring the cameras to his left that showed James coming downstairs to his office.

...

Bond had seen right through Q's little game. He thought it cute, really. He'd never had someone he fancied dress in _loose_ clothing once they noticed he was looking at them.

Then again, Q was always a little bit different, a little bit wonderful. That was something no amount of clothing could hide, not from James.

There were other things Q couldn't hide from him, either, and the most important was that he was a downright _atrocious_ liar.

James had seen him lie a grand total of once, but it had been enough; it confirmed the one thing he needed to know, which was that the pale, slight little boy had absolutely no idea how to lie on the spot. Perhaps he could lie very well and good through his computer, through his communications, but if he caught him on the spot...

Bond smiled, adjusted his tie, and went downstairs to Q's office.

He found him exactly where he thought he would. Q was typing away steadily on the computer in front of him, a cup of tea left neglected on his desk as he pushed his glasses up his nose every so often, humming quietly as he poked the tip of his tongue out between his lips.

It was beautiful, whether the man believed it or not; he was so small and delicate despite his strength, like the lines of code he himself created. Something not unlike a paradox, when James really thought about it.

He was quiet right up until he was standing in front of Q's desk, and true to form, Q didn't notice him, wouldn't have, in fact, noticed him had he not spoken his name, soft and sultry.

Q jumped right out of his seat, and James watched in amusement as he shook himself off, realizing the hem of his sleeves went over his hands when he wasn't rolling the cardigan up his arms. His Quartermaster looked at him, wide-eyed, before huffing and sighing, settling back in like an overly particular puffball.

"Yes, James, what is it?" He asked, licking his lips. Bond smiled; nervousness. Good, he could use that.

"Do you fancy me, Quartermaster?" He said, his voice rough and rasping with desire.

Q's reaction was as immediate as it was immensely satisfying.

He squeaked, inhaling a breath so sharply James almost winced in pity for his ribs, before immediately trying to school his expression; watching him do so was the real entertainment, due to the fact that he blinked about ten times, adjusted his glasses, licked his lips, and, his eyes still darting left and right wildly, tried to calm the twitch in his jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Q said, looking straight at his computer screen. James resisted the urge to purr as he watched him fiddle with his hands within his enormous sleeves.

"Oh, you don't? Let me put it in clearer terms, then, my dear Quartermaster," James said. "Do you enjoy my company? Would you like it if I shagged you, Q, right against your desk? Have you been avoiding me out of some twisted, painful desire to be in my company on a near-constant basis? Put simply, Q, do you find me attractive? Desirable?"

Q's entire face was red; James wondered idly if he blushed to his chest, and the thought of Q's shoulders and clavicle softened with that warm flush he could see on his face made him bite back a moan.

"N-no," Q said, licking his lips. "I mean, uh. I like your company. When you're not trying to seduce me. Or break my stuff."

"Oh, and that's all?" James said. "Is that so, Q?"

"Yes," Q said, wringing his hands. "Yes, that's all."

James came closer, pulling Q out from behind his desk and turning his chair so that Q faced him, and finally knelt, going down on one knee and looking up at the man before him. He separated his hands, holding each one apart from each other. Q's pupils were blown wide, his lips parted just slightly.

"Then you won't mind if I stop you from harming those gorgeous, delicate hands of yours," he said. "They're a valuable asset, and it's a simple gesture between friends now, is it not?"

"Yes," Q rasped, his chest going up and down rapidly as he blinked, "yes, of course."

James took a few minutes just to hold Q's hands and watch him; he looked like he would bolt, if only he could figure out how to move his legs or convince his body to leave James' embrace. A child could see he had lied; James would be more concerned about his work as an agent if it was not his Quartermaster, who lied more through code than body, and also, if he didn't love to watch Q fall apart like this so much.

A man his age was allowed a few vices.

Q just happened to be his favorite of them.

"So, then," James said, "you never answered my other questions, Quartermaster."

"What?" Q said, his eyes going wide with panic. James chuckled.

"It's quite all right, don't worry; they were dreadful. I have just one more question for you, Q," he said, watching as Q allowed himself a moment to relax before James said, abrupt and short, "Are you in love with me?"

"No," Q said, and James had to hide his shock as he spoke. Q didn't show any of his obvious signs of lying.

A twinge of hurt lanced through him before he could stop it; as to why, he was baffled. Surely it didn't bother him that Q, by all accounts, just lusted after him. That was no different than most of his lovers. Why did that hurt?

"I see," James said. Q closed his eyes. If he watched James fall apart any longer he might lose his own composure, and then they were both lost. "Forgive me for interrupting your work, Quartermaster."

He stood up and went for the door. Every atom in Q's body screamed for him to stop, making his whole body shake with panic, with desire, with a terrible, awful feeling that if James walked out that door, he would be closing more than just a piece of wood between the two of them.

"Wait!"

Q had no idea where the order had come from, or whose broken, desire-ravaged voice that was, but since James turned around to look at him, he could only assume it was his.

"I mean, I—I can't, right?" Q said. "Preposterous. A bad idea on all accounts. The probability of failure in this relationship is exceedingly high. I mean. Um."

James sighed, his shoulders hunched and his bearing worn down.

"I know I sleep with my targets, Q, and if that's really it—"

"Oh for god's sake," Q said, throwing his hands up and cutting James off, "yes, you do, and that's not my point, my point is that _they're_ gorgeous and sultry and _Eve Moneypenny_ , and I'm _not_! Of course I can't love you, I absolutely refuse to let myself, because I _know you_ , you emotionally stunted git, you'll never let me in if I do!"

James stopped and stared at him, his bright blue eyes suddenly going dark. Q felt guilty for being the one to make such lovely eyes dim, but it couldn't be helped, he supposed.

"Eve?" He finally said. "Oh, _Eve_?"

He began to laugh, which just confused Q further while reminding him that really, James had a very nice laugh. He should laugh more often. Just not at him.

"She's a friend and a colleague," he said smoothly, "and if I asked her to be anything else I wager she'd bloody kneecap me. I at least _attempt_ to keep my working relationships professional when possible, Q."

"So you're here because..." Q said, quirking a single eyebrow.

"When _possible,_ " James repeated "and you are a frustratingly wonderful impossibility, Quartermaster. I only have so much restraint."

"I see," Q said. "Well, that's nice, regarding Eve. The point still remains that your type happens to be the ladies in low-back dresses with pistols under their skirts and a pretty smile. I haven't brushed my hair in three days, I'm going to drown in this cardigan by the end of the day, and I wear _glasses_ , for Christ's sake. I'm not pretty, I'm not petite, I'm not anything that would motivate you to seduce me, so the reason you are still in my office, I confess, continues to be a mystery."

James sighed and gave him a short look that silenced any further protest.

"Q, I'm going to ignore all that, because frankly, let us be honest with ourselves; if I proffered myself to you here and now, you would shut down our entire security camera system just to have me on your desk, which means I really am not considered with what is or isn't my type," James told him. "I am more concerned with why you refuse to say you love me."

_Because I'm a terrible liar, and if I give you the truth, it'll take us both places we don't want to be._

"You're an agent," Q said. "You've had a hard life; it seems to be a secondary requirement for being a double-oh. You've had lovers leave you and plenty of betrayal and deaths in your wake. You don't deny it; you wear it like an armor to keep other lovers away, like some kind of signal flare that you're a troubled man in a well-tailored suit. What makes you think I'm good enough to get past all that? That I'm not going to die or betray you, or, or...be worth all that fuss?"

James didn't say a word for a few minutes. He just searched Q's face, his gaze intense but his smile soft when he finally met his eyes.

"You're Q," he said. "You don't go running about in the field, and I've seen you're more than capable of handling yourself."

He came a bit closer, and Q felt more and more like the situation was slipping out of his hands; he let it before he could think about what a terrible idea that was.

"Also, you're a bloody awful liar," James said. "You couldn't even think about betraying me without broadcasting it from here to Wales."

Q actually laughed, and it warmed James from head to toe before he could think about the ridiculousness of such a thing.

"Thanks," Q said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "So, uh...is that...why you're here?"

"If you like," James said with a shrug. "I could be here because I trust you, or I find you attractive despite your protestations, or because you're clever and quick with a smart little quip, or because I know you _must_ be someone worthy of trust, because you're such a terrible liar I'd know otherwise...or, well..."

Q was suddenly confronted with James being very much in his personal space, the other man picking him up and putting him on his desk, (thankfully shoving his laptop aside first, and Q could've kissed him for that alone), holding him steady with one hand while his other—

Q moaned, dizzy with pleasure, as James' hand moved under his cardigan, under his shirt.

"Let's be honest, Q," James purred in his ear as he began to rub a rough, calloused thumb over Q's nipple, "I could be here because I've seen right through your coquettish little game with your clothing."

He chuckled and kissed Q's cheek, before kissing the corner of his mouth, then his lips, soft and slow. "You ought to have considered that wearing loose clothes makes it just as easy for me to slip my hand beneath your clothing as I'd hoped."

Q whimpered before his dignity could tell him to stop. James just kissed his neck and smiled against his skin.

"S-so, uh...pick a better distraction next time?" Q said. James chuckled as he covered Q's body with his own, nipping at the bare skin that the loose cardigan allowed him.

"I doubt you could," he said. "You're a bad liar, Q; this is simply another manifestation of it. Try as you might, I'll get the truth from you...body and soul, yes?"

In response, Q spread his legs.

"Always," Q promised. "And if you don't, you'll know."

James just smiled, nuzzling his Quartermaster's neck in an oddly affectionate gesture before stripping him of his clothes and getting down to more normal gestures of affection.


End file.
